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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071647">A Misunderstanding of Workplace Ethics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Succession (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Rough Oral Sex, Verbal Humiliation, implied polyamory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:35:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lawrence really fucking hates Kendall Roy, but this new offer of his has potential.</p><p>(A minor canon divergence set during 1x01.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lawrence Yee/Kendall Roy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Misunderstanding of Workplace Ethics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>¯\_(ツ)_/¯ No regrets.</p><p>I stole some dialogue from 1x01 for this fic - you'll know it when you see it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kendall Roy is a smug, arrogant sack of shit stuffed into a multi-thousand-dollar suit, born deep-throating a silver spoon and full of the certainty only the born-rich have—that <em>everything</em> is going to go his way. Kendall Roy lives his life buoyed by his daddy's money, playing a game he only thinks he's good at because he's never had to face the consequences of losing. All bravado, all bluster. He's Lawrence's age and has never accomplished a fucking thing on his own—and Lawrence knows that for a fact. He does his research, even though there's no way in hell he's going to let Waystar Royco get its grubby hands on Vaulter.</p><p>But all that research didn't really matter, because Lawrence could have figured all that out from the moment he met Kendall. </p><p><em>So, we ready to fuck or what?</em> Fucking Philistine.</p><p>So, to put it mildly, Lawrence absolutely fucking loathes Kendall Roy. The look of blank incomprehension on the shithead's face when Lawrence stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, and dismissed him, his offer, and his entire fucking family, sits on Lawrence's tongue like sugar. And the way Kendall has to jog to catch him outside the conference room just adds to the sweetness.</p><p>"Hold up, hold up," Kendall says as Lawrence half-turns toward him, before any retort can even leave his mouth. He huffs a laugh, shakes his head. <em>We're all friends here,</em> his gestures say, <em>we can figure this out.</em> But Lawrence isn't his friend. Lawrence isn't sure how thick he needs to lay on the disdain for Kendall to fucking get it.</p><p>"Okay," continues Kendall, once Lawrence has stopped walking and turned fully to him. "So no Jaguar. I get it. Whatever. What is it you really want? We can up the price. Or a favor—is that it? Fuck, I'll throw in a blowjob if that gets through to you."</p><p>He laughs, <em>ha-ha</em>, just engaging in some manly semi-homophobic shit-talking, funny only because he'd never <em>really</em> do it. Straight guys don't usually joke like that with Lawrence, though, since as a gay man, he's obviously going to throw himself on whatever dick the weak-chinned, condescending asshole of the day decides to offer him as a symbol of submission. God, these guys are fucked up.</p><p>And usually, Lawrence wouldn't even think of lowering himself to accept that kind of offer. But there's a sort of desperation kindling in Kendall's eyes; Vaulter means a lot more to him than Lawrence thought it did. That sparks his curiosity. And Kendall does have dick-sucking lips. So—</p><p>"A blowjob?" Lawrence asks, threading his voice with scorn. They're the same height, so he can't look down at the guy, but he hopes the sneer conveys his feelings. "Are you serious?"</p><p>Kendall is impervious to it. Oblivious or dismissive, Lawrence can't tell. He does that awkward laugh again, a sharp exhalation, gaze caught on Lawrence's like he heard that eye contact was important in a business class once, and hasn't forgotten it.</p><p>"Yeah, you know," he says. "Just spitballing. Brainstorming. Throwing ideas at the wall to see what sticks."</p><p>Those phrases are all synonyms, which infuriates Lawrence even more, pumps up his adrenaline. He's a risk-taker by nature. That isn't always a good thing.</p><p>"Tell you what," he says. "Let's talk privately. In my office."</p><p>Kendall breaks out into a broad smile: things are going his way again, as they inevitably do for the Roys.</p><p>"Sure, sure," he says. "Fuck yeah. Good call, dude."</p><p>And a few more colorful phrases as Lawrence leads him to his office. </p><p>The blinds are pulled down over the glass walls; most of the time they're up, the door open, so Lawrence seems approachable and all that shit, but he wanted some alone time before this meeting. <em>Good call, dude.</em></p><p>He flips the lights on, an eye-friendly soft glow. Kendall glances around the office, taking in the décor: framed covers of indie comics, a row of <em>Star Trek</em> figurines, a drawing his niece made for him, where she'd misspelled his name (she was four, so whatever) but carefully chosen his favorite colors for the messy pencil sketch.</p><p>"Thought you'd be into anime," Kendall says carelessly. He rolls his neck casually, ignoring or not noticing the way Lawrence has to relax his jaw at the comment. "So, let's talk."</p><p>"Blowjob," Lawrence says curtly. He watches Kendall's face carefully, the way his eyes narrow as he takes in Lawrence's expression, then widen a bit as the comment sinks in.</p><p>"Are you—are you fucking serious?" Kendall asks. The tips of his ears have gone red. "I wasn't—that was—"</p><p>"A joke?" Lawrence fills in. He shrugs, casual about it. "Okay. Whatever, dude. I figured."</p><p>He jerks his head at the door. "So get out. Go back to your advisors and your daddy and tell them this isn't going to work out."</p><p>Kendall—</p><p>Kendall doesn't move.</p><p>His face is flushed too, now. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and look, it's not like Lawrence trades stock for sex often, but he's pretty sure that Kendall would be out the door by now if he weren't at least thinking about it. Lawrence folds his arms, leans against his desk, and waits. </p><p>There's a lot to be said for a good silence. Some guys can handle it; others break, and babble to fill the gap in conversation, agree to things they might not otherwise agree to. Kendall's the latter; Lawrence can tell.</p><p>It's still a surprise when Kendall says, "Okay, so, like, you'll agree? To the deal? If I do this?"</p><p>A one-shoulder shrug. Play it cool.</p><p>"I'll think about it," says Lawrence.</p><p>"Okay, but like, how hard?" Kendall's eyes dart around the room; he shifts from foot to foot. He still hasn't made a move to the door.</p><p>"I dunno," Lawrence says casually. "That depends on how good you are."</p><p>"Fuck," says Kendall. He smooths the front of his slacks. The motion draws Lawrence's eyes to his crotch and wow, okay, there's a bulge there. His eyebrows raise in surprise without his input; Kendall notices Lawrence noticing and clears his throat.</p><p>"I'm pretty good," he says.</p><p>The words hang in the silence. This time, Kendall doesn't rush to fill it. Finally, Lawrence makes a little invitational gesture at the floor with one hand, lazy and brief, a king ordering his subject.</p><p>And Kendall gets down on his knees. He puts his hands on Lawrence's thighs; they're hot through the fabric of his slacks. Lawrence is shocked into stillness. He can practically feel the pinwheel spinning in his frontal lobe like he's a frozen MacBook.</p><p><em>Kendall Roy is gonna suck my dick,</em> he thinks. The man in question nuzzles against Lawrence's erection, mouths at it through the fabric. The heat of his mouth feels very fucking good. Then he unbuckles Lawrence's belt and unzips his fly with the ease of practice; he's done this before. </p><p>A vivid scene pops into Lawrence's head: Kendall Roy, sweaty and streaked with saliva and come, stretched over a table in some anonymous nightclub, getting spitroasted by two guys, one cock in his ass, the other in his mouth. Lawrence's kinks, not Kendall's, but—fuck, apparently more realistic than he thought they were.</p><p>Kendall eases his cock out of his fly and runs a finger along the bottom before kissing the tip; Lawrence hisses through his teeth and his cock jumps. Kendall looks up at him from under his eyelashes. He might be trying to look seductive, but he mostly looks nervous and very fucking turned on. The rich bastard is gagging for it.</p><p>Lawrence would really like to face-fuck Kendall, make him choke and drool on his dick.</p><p>He slides a hand through Kendall's hair, knots his fingers in it.</p><p>"Come on," he says. "What, do you need an engraved invitation? I thought you said you were good."</p><p>Kendall's eyes flash, the first sign of genuine spirit he's shown, then he lowers his gaze and goes to town on Lawrence's dick.</p><p>Heat and slick pressure, lips tight around Lawrence's cock, tongue laving the underside before he withdraws a bit and swirls it around the head. Then back down, rocking his head back and forth, throat and tongue and lips all working together. Tingles running up Lawrence's spine, drawing him tight. Kendall Roy is <em>really</em> good at sucking dick.</p><p>"Holy fuck," Lawrence breathes. His hips jerk forward, forcing himself into Kendall's mouth; the guy gags but doesn't pull away. Can't pull away, with Lawrence holding him in place, but he doesn't even try. Instead, he braces himself, grips Lawrence's ass, and takes him deeper.</p><p>"Holy fuck," Lawrence repeats, tightening his grip on Kendall's hair, his other hand sliding down to cup Kendall's skull. Then he starts thrusting for real. Kendall wriggles a bit but Lawrence doesn't let him go, forces him to adapt to the new rhythm. The slick wet sound of Lawrence's cock in Kendall's mouth in punctuated by the sound of Kendall gagging on each thrust. Lawrence quickens the pace, face-fucking Kendall now. Tears in Kendall's eyes, spit dripping from his mouth. His dick is in his hand, jacking off like his life depends on it.</p><p>"Okay," Lawrence says before a groan cuts him off. Jesus fuck, this is good. This is so— "Can you take a little more?"</p><p>Kendall moans and doesn't stop. Lawrence takes that as an affirmative.</p><p>He holds Kendall in an iron grip and stops showing him any mercy. He fucks Kendall's throat like he's a sex toy, a fuckdoll, and Kendall takes it pretty fucking well. Lawrence can feel him shaking, but he doesn't know if it's from effort or if he's gonna come.</p><p>"Look at you," Lawrence groans, forcing Kendall's head up and down on his cock. "Guess you can put the cokehead in rehab—but—" He gasps, shoving Kendall's head down all the way until his nose is buried against Lawrence's body. "—he stays a cokewhore forever."</p><p>That isn't exactly a cutting remark, but it doesn't matter because Kendall is struggling against his grip, and his throat is working Lawrence's dick, and he's trembling all over. Lawrence eases off the slightest bit, thrusts in again. His balls are tightening; he's extremely fucking close. He wonders if Kendall can even breathe like this. He doesn't really care.</p><p>"Gonna come all over you, you piece of shit," Lawrence hisses, and yanks Kendall's head off his cock. Two strokes and he's shooting ropes of come on Kendall's face. It gets in his mouth as he coughs, in his eyes as they water. His jaw hangs open as he frantically jerks off. Lawrence slaps him in the face and says, "You little cocksucking whore."</p><p>And that is what makes Kendall gasp and spasm and spill all over the floor of Lawrence's office. </p><p>A drop of come gets on Lawrence's shoe. As Kendall gasps and tries to control himself, Lawrence nudges him with his foot.</p><p>"You fucked up my shoe," he says. "Clean it up."</p><p>Kendall leans back on his heels, wipes his mouth with a shaky hand, and says hoarsely, "Fuck you, asshole."</p><p>Lawrence laughs.</p><p>They spend a moment doing the awkward post-coital dance of tucking dicks back into pants, straightening their jackets, smoothing their hair back—Kendall has some work cut out for him in that department. Lawrence grabs a box of Kleenex and offers it to Kendall, ever the gentleman. Kendall wipes his face off in silence while Lawrence takes care of his shoe.</p><p>"So," Kendall says abruptly. "<em>Was</em> I good?"</p><p>There are layers and layers to that question; Lawrence can hear them in his voice. If he actually liked Kendall, he might make an effort at deciphering them. But truthfully, he doesn't give a fuck.</p><p>"You were fine," he says.</p><p>"And the deal?" Kendall's voice is satisfied, assured. He got fucked how he wanted and now he gets to close the deal. That's how it works for Kendall Roy.</p><p>Lawrence looks Kendall dead in the eye, and says, "I'm not letting you Neanderthals in to rape my company."</p><p>A long pause. Blank incomprehension.</p><p>"I'm sorry?" Kendall says flatly.</p><p>"You're a bunch of bloated dinosaurs who didn't even notice the monkeys swinging by 'til yesterday." God, Lawrence can be such a fucking asshole. It's great. "So fuck you, daddy's boy."</p><p>Fury flashes across Kendall's face. He tamps it down with clear effort, grimaces. It might be a smile, but it's hard to tell under the circumstances. His jaw must hurt like a motherfucker.</p><p>"Hold on," he says, fake-conciliatory. "Don't blow this up."</p><p>Why the fuck does Kendall want this so bad? That's what Lawrence wants to know. Instead, he points to the office door.</p><p>"That's the exit," he says. "Thanks for coming down. It was great to meet you. Sorry it isn't going to work out."</p><p>"No," Kendall says, as if he can change reality with one syllable. He probably can, usually. Just not this time. "It's gonna work out."</p><p>Lawrence sighs. He steps around his desk to grab a bottle of hand sanitizer, makes sure Kendall sees him squeeze the gel onto his hands. A final insult.</p><p>"No," he says. "It's not."</p><p>Kendall quivers for a moment. To someone who's not used to seeing the aftermath of rough blowjobs, he just looks flushed with anger—but his lips are still puffy, his hair still a little messy. To those in the know, he's clearly just been fucked.</p><p>And now Lawrence knows that Kendall Roy is into humiliation and face-fucking, that he's willing to fuck a stranger to make a deal. And he's never going to forget it, and Kendall's never going to forget he knows it, either.</p><p>"Fine," Kendall says at last. He shakes his head like he's trying to clear his mind. "Fine. I'll—you'll hear from us tomorrow."</p><p>"Have a good one, dude," Lawrence says, and Kendall turns on his heel and walks out. Walk of shame, going back to his advisors with nothing but the memory of Lawrence's cock in his mouth.</p><p>"Now that's what I call a satisfying meeting," Lawrence says aloud after the door closes. It sounds dumb, like a line from a porno, and he laughs out loud. Orgasm has made his limbs loose, and despite those last, tense few minutes, he's feeling pretty damn good. This is going to make a great anecdote when he and his husband next swap hookup stories. There's no way he can keep this to himself.</p><p>His phone buzzes to inform him of his next meeting, in fifteen minutes. Lawrence dismisses the notification and stands up. His mind is organized and analytical; he brushes imaginary dust from his jacket and neatly slots the memory of fucking Kendall Roy away, to be recalled when the time is right. </p><p>He has other business to attend to today.</p>
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